


Home Team

by Las



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Baseball, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Las/pseuds/Las
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the summer after senior year, and everything's about to change. [Alternate universe where women get drafted and play in Major League Baseball.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Team

**Author's Note:**

> For [Pri](http://drivingsideways33.tumblr.com/).

They’re deep in the heart of summer and the AC gives up and dies. Meg and Ruby open all the windows in the house, but it’s no use. The sun is stronger than the breeze.

“Fuck this shit!” Meg yells at nothing in particular, and her dad, hidden in his study down the hall, yells back, “Language!”

It’s cooler outside than it is inside, and Meg and Ruby end up on the front porch, leaning back in the adirondack chairs, feet up on the railing, talking about nothing.

Ruby knows not to bring up anything baseball-related. Meg doesn’t bring up anything Sam-related. It’s been a weird summer. These hot months are still a stopgap for Ruby, weird in-between time unencumbered by consequence, full of promise and potential. In the fall, like clockwork, she will still go back to school. For Meg, it’s the end of something.

Ruby says, “Hey, your girl.”

Meg’s eyes are closed behind her sunglasses, and she frowns. Ruby should know better to bring up Abbie too, and Meg is about to make some snide remark when Ruby adds:

"She’s here."

Meg opens her eyes.

Abbie hurts to look at these days. She parks her car in front their house and climbs out, and Meg feels her stomach twist.  _You’re not real_ , Meg told her once, dreamy and sweet with post-coital warmth, curled up next to her in bed.  _Someone dreamed you up. Someone said, let’s make a woman. Let’s make her radiant and terrifying. Let’s make her throw 95 miles per hour. There’ll be nothing she can’t do_.

Abbie had laughed and asked,  _Are you scared of me?_

Abbie plants herself in Meg’s front yard with her hands on her hips, and says, “Are you avoiding me?”

Ruby says, “Hi, Abbie.”

Meg lowers her feet to the floor and leans forward. She is grateful for her sunglasses, feeling protected behind them. It’s a false security. Abbie sees right through her. There isn’t much Meg can lie to her about anymore.

"I was busy," Meg replies.

"Bullshit."

Worth a shot.

Abbie cocks her head at the car. “Come on.”

"What?"

"Let’s go. You don’t look fucking busy now."

"The hell’s your problem?" Meg demands.

"I’m going inside," Ruby says, recognizing all the warning signs. "You two have fun."

"Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun," Abbie says. Her resting face is still vicious-looking. Even when she’s smiling, she looks like she’s about to murder someone, so when Abbie is irritated, people give her wide berth. "Right, Meg?"

"I didn’t say yes," Meg says.

"Are you gonna?" 

Ruby sighs. Meg would bet ten bucks she’s rolling her eyes, and then she hears the door click close as her sister goes inside.

"You’re a fucking child," Abbie tells her, then she turns around and walks back to her car. "Bring your glove."

*

Meg brings her glove, but she doesn’t change, opting to stay in her sundress and sandals. It’s a paltry rebellion. She’s not impressed at her own pettiness, and all past versions of herself would probably laugh derisively. Once the summer ends, the world’s going to change, so whatever. One of them gets to continue playing baseball. One of them gets to get one step closer to their shared dream, even though it was both of them that worked themselves to the bone for a chance. Abbie is a first-round draft pick, no surprise to anyone, but Meg... 

Once the summer ends, Abbie is going to vanish to the other side of the country to play real fucking baseball, taking Meg’s heart with her, and—

Meg rubs her face, making a frustrated noise. It’s too goddamn hot today.

"If you hate me, you can just say so," Abbie says, apropos of nothing. It was quiet in the car, radio off, passengers lost in their own thoughts. "If you wanna stop talking to me so fucking bad."

"I don’t hate you."

"Good."

Meg glances over and Abbie has her eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, one arm hanging out the window.

"Good," she says again, quieter.

The word settles in a crook of Meg’s heart and stays there, glowing, warm.  _  
_

The field at the high school is yellowing, turning pale and dry in the sun. The baseball diamond is mostly dirt by now. There’s nobody else around; it’s just the two of them. Meg wants to reach across and touch Abbie, lean in and say fuck this, let’s go to your place. Abbie’s parents would still be at work, and Meg will have the whole afternoon to make this up to her in more interesting ways.

Meg looks down at her glove and fiddles with the laces. She breathes deeply, and the air is thick and muggy, sticking in her throat. Truth is, she knows: clear skies, open space, one white ball. This is the only way Meg can make it up to her.

They pull into the parking lot, and Abbie reaches behind her and grabs a baseball out of the chaos of the backseat. There’s always at least a couple in there. Last summer, they roadtripped to Busch Stadium and watched the Cardinals get trounced by the Reds, but Abbie caught a foul ball that Yadier Molina golfed into the seats, and it’s somewhere back there too. She can’t tell which one it is anymore, so she just makes sure all the balls stay in her car so it doesn’t get lost. They’re multiplying back there.

They play catch in the outfield, kicking up clouds of dust, sun in their eyes and blinding them. After every throw, they take one step back until Abbie’s at the warning track and Meg is in the infield. When they start having to run to make catches, Meg kicks off her sandals and sprints barefoot. Her dress flutters around her knees, and the sweat makes the fabric stick to her back.

Abbie has a rocket arm, and she hurls the ball towards right, making Meg work for it. Meg goes on autopilot. She keeps her eyes on the ball as she runs, running, doesn’t matter that she’s barefoot and in a dress and then - with a sense of timing she wouldn’t know how to explain to anyone else - she dives through the air. The ball lands in her glove, and the ground rushes up to meet her.

The crowd, of one, goes wild.

"Great fucking catch!" Abbie yells, running in from center field. "Holy fucking shit, great fucking catch!"

 _Where are the scouts now_ , Meg thinks dazedly. Fucking piece of shit scouts, blind as bats.

She’s got sand in her bra. She probably scraped her arm all to shit. She rolls over on her back and the sky is so vast, too blue, not a single cloud to be seen. When they were thirteen and Abbie was sleeping over, they were waiting for their nail polish to dry before turning on the Playstation, and they made a pact:  _We’re going to be in the major leagues. We’re gonna play baseball and we’ll go all the way_.

Meg’s the one breaking promises here. 

She turns her head and sees Abbie, the brightest grin on her face just like when they were kids. Meg smiles back, can’t help herself. Sometimes baseball just uncomplicates things, and thank god.

She is jealous of Abbie, and she loves Abbie, and they’re not easy feelings to reconcile, but really, Meg has no choice. The latter trumps the former, always, always, and no matter where Abbie goes, or what team she plays for, or how many wins or losses she racks up, Meg will root for her, all the way.

Abbie drops to her knees and her face appears upside-down in Meg’s screen of vision, still giddy, smiling wide.

"Hall of famer right here," Meg says, and Abbie kisses her.

Meg kisses back, closing her eyes. It’s been too long. When the kiss ends, Abbie remains hovering, gently touching Meg’s face, savoring proximity. 

"You wanna go again?" Meg asks.

"Yes."

Abbie helps her to her feet, and Meg kisses her again, just because she can. “Play ball,” Meg says, and Abbie laughs.


End file.
